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It s been a while since I posted about the book but for new readers to the blog but I wrote a book available for the Kindle about my National Service experiences :

Get In Get Out and Get Away. This may sound strange but not for your uncles, brothers, fathers or grandads. They knew from an early age that one day they would be called up to do their two years National Service. I am sure the countless millions of ex-National Servicemen will have many things in common in these memoirs, hopefully they are happy ones. I was born in a small terraced house on Walney Island, Barrow-in-Furness, England in 1938. In that era, the toilet was outside and the bath which was made of tin was kept in the backyard and brought into the house when needed. Whilst growing up, the cloud above one’s head of having to do National Service got closer and closer. I knew older lads who were getting called up on a regular basis. I was twenty one years old and had just finished my apprenticeship in 1960 when it was my turn. This was the last year of National Servicemen being called up for the services. I served my two years National Service in the King’s Own Royal Border Regiment reporting to Fulwood Barracks, Preston. For ten weeks, the drill instructors shaped the platoon from a rag tag outfit to smart soldiers. From Fulwood the platoon was sent to Barnard Castle, County Durham and later to the British Cameroons, West Africa for ten months. The regiment was chosen to keep the peace and oversee a vote on the Cameroons future. There was a terrorist organisation on the French border that was intent on disrupting the process and the memoirs include numerous encounters and an eventful raid on a terrorist camp. This true story is mixed with amusing anecdotes of growing up in post War Britain through the swinging sixties. I was given an eye opener in life then and I am sure when you read my detailed account, you will agree, and also see the parallels to the modern day operations undertaken by the American, British and United Nations military. It is all history now but it has been a privilege on behalf of my fellow countrymen to put it all down on paper. We all had one thing in common, that was to Get In Get Out and Get Away.

Another great month, just missing out on the record month by a couple of books. Thanks to all who purchased my National Service book, for more details click the picture above to take you to Amazon or try my other website www.getingetoutandgetaway.co.uk

The details of the book are:

Get In Get Out and Get Away. This may sound strange but not for your uncles, brothers, fathers or grandads. They knew from an early age that one day they would be called up to do their two years National Service.
I am sure the countless millions of ex-National Servicemen will have many things in common in these memoirs, hopefully they are happy ones. I was born in a small terraced house on Walney Island, Barrow-in-Furness, England in 1938. In that era, the toilet was outside and the bath which was made of tin was kept in the backyard and brought into the house when needed.
Whilst growing up, the cloud above one’s head of having to do National Service got closer and closer. I knew older lads who were getting called up on a regular basis. I was twenty one years old and had just finished my apprenticeship in 1960 when it was my turn. This was the last year of National Servicemen being called up for the services.
I served my two years National Service in the King’s Own Royal Border Regiment reporting to Fulwood Barracks, Preston. For ten weeks, the drill instructors shaped the platoon from a rag tag outfit to smart soldiers. From Fulwood the platoon was sent to Barnard Castle, County Durham and later to the British Cameroons, West Africa for ten months. The regiment was chosen to keep the peace and oversee a vote on the Cameroons future. There was a terrorist organisation on the French border that was intent on disrupting the process and the memoirs include numerous encounters and an eventful raid on a terrorist camp.
This true story is mixed with amusing anecdotes of growing up in post War Britain through the swinging sixties. I was given an eye opener in life then and I am sure when you read my detailed account, you will agree, and also see the parallels to the modern day operations undertaken by the American, British and United Nations military.
It is all history now but it has been a privilege on behalf of my fellow countrymen to put it all down on paper.
We all had one thing in common, that was to Get In Get Out and Get Away.

Hello Alan,
My name is Jim Thomas and my army number was 23772116 I came across your site accidently, while looking for something else entirely.
I was in the K.O.R.B. and went to Cameroon as a signaller in HQ Company. At first I was stationed at the Buea camp, and (against all odds) volunteered to go up to Bamenda with some security codes for the radio.
On the way I stopped over at the Mamfe camp, for a night, and was well-fed. Then up to Bamenda to deliver my parcel.
I travelled in a Landrover with a mate who was also a signaller but could drive. (I had no licence at that time). We stayed one night in Bamenda and I met all my mates from the Signals platoon.
Then, off back down to Mamfe, to stay the night again. If I remember rightly you could only travel one way on a certain day, then opposite the day after. Anyhow, while at Mamfe I did a stint on the radio to relieve a mate.
When I got back from Mamfe to Buea my Captain, named Blinkoe who said that he had heard me on the radio at Mamfe, and asked me if I fancied a transfer to Mamfe. I jumped at it has I saw that Mamfe was a very relaxed place, no bullshit, no parades, no saluting and all on first name terms (even the officers)
So, off back to Mamfe the next day, where I was in with a full corporal Albert xxxxxxx, a private names Mick Hargreaves and two Royal Signallers. We worked the radio in shifts, so it meant that you only worked one day in three, split into mornings and afernoons. Cushy hey!
We were kept busy with signals to UK ordering stuff for the RAF to finish off the camp.you obviously were demobbed before me (mine was April 1962) but before hand I was transferred to the Loyals for two days (typical army).
Jim Thomas.